Page 60 of Heir to His Court

Do I have to end Renaud's physical life in order to fulfill the Vow?

No.

I paused, the quill hovering above the paper before I wrote the next question.How many words are there in the Old Tongue for death?

There are three hundred and twenty-six words for death in ancient Ninephene.

. . .Right.

I began to laugh—I was not amused. “No wonder that bastard wasn't worried. He's been laughing at me this whole time.” I'd get even.

I wasn't off the hook. Somehow I needed to devise a way to deliver the Prince into a state of death the Vow would accept. As long as I maintained intent, it would not punish me. Vow magic was both literal and abstract, and simultaneously dependent on will.

Otherwise known in plain speaking as a pain in the ass.

At least now I knew that if I survived tomorrow, I had a hope of extricating myself out of the mess of my Vow. I set the Book aside. I had many other questions, but I understood the value of pacing, and there was nothing I could do tonight about any of my problems except rest.

* * *

We entered the palace grounds in a macabre reenactment of the night of the ball, except instead of the forest courtyard, we were again in Renaud’s hall of white and black marble. He sat in his throne on the raised dais, Everenne’s silver crown on his head, his robes white under an overrobe and sash of scarlet. It was the most color I’d seen him wear outside of Avallonne.

My father, Numair, and our retinue fanned around me. We wore Faronne’s—the Kuthliele—funeral white, the warriors in surcoats over their armor, the noncombatants in gowns and robes.

The Prince surveyed us, moonstone gaze cold. It touched mine, distant and nearly indifferent, with no hint of Darkan’s knowledge. This. . .was going to be unpleasant.

Surviving Renaud’s anger. Traversing the realm gate. Donning the Cuffs and claiming the Trident and somehow,somehow,luring Raniel to Ninephe where I was tasked with keeping him from killing his parents and destroying his clan to assuage a childhood wound—and then we had to deal with Juhainah. If we failed, then after she claimed dominion over that realm, she would come here. Not just for conquest, but for me. She must have a body to truly live, and evidently I was the body she’d been waiting upon for untold numbers of years.

So, no pressure.

I closed my eyes and almost laughed. It was either laugh, or cry.

Not, it turned out, suicidal, I settled for lowering my head to help conceal my expression until I’d composed myself, then lifted my gaze to the Prince again.

An unsheathed broadsword rested on Renaud’s knees, light reflecting off the honed double edge. The hilt was black, inlaid with silver and gold designs I recognized.

Baba’s grip on my hand almost crushed my bones. I turned my head and gave him one last look. His lips were thin, his skin gray under its deep hue. I was his only child, about to risk Renaud’s mercy so finally there could be peace between the Houses, so finally, we no longer had to live under the looming threat that one day the Prince might unleash his full strength against us.

. . .and in truth that goal seemed so small now. It was no less important to the people who lived in Everenne, but eclipsed in my mind by the larger difficulties of Juhainah and Raniel’s clan feud.

“Approach, penitent,” he said, sibilant voice sliding through the room and displacing air.

I waited until my father released my hand. There was a sheen in his dark eyes, and I kissed his cheek then walked across the white and black marble toward the Prince. The sleeveless white gown swished against my legs, a soft, morbidly sensuous sound.

Renaud watched me, and I was uneasy because I still saw nothing in his eyes. I had no idea how the next moments would unfold.

I lowered myself to my knees before the first step of the dais.

The mind that pressed against me didn’t feel quite like Renaud. Not quite like Raniel either and certainly not Darkan. But. . .he wasn’t the General. Could his aspects have merged? Realms, I hoped Embriel’s father wasn’t afifthpersonality. It was dark humor, and I had the wisdom to keep such thoughts to myself.

“No,” the Prince said, “I will not grant you this, Aerinne. Who are you attempting to shield?”

Ice burned my skin. He thought I was asking for mercy on behalf of a loved one. “I cannot shield myself, Prince.”

His eyes widened imperceptibly, then narrowed as if it truly never occurred to him before that I could have been the one.

“You skipped my twenty-first year at dinner that night,” I said.Darkan, please be here.“If you had asked, I could not have lied.”

ChapterEighteen

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